A Parthan Summer by Julie Steimle (best books for 8th graders TXT) 📖

good for some of the meatheads on his team. But it unsettled Jeff also, as it was a perfect trait for a government agent as well.

Replying after some reflection, Jeff said, “It was my life. I don’t know any different.”

“But you don’t intend to stay in such a life…” Coach Murphy started, thinking about Jeff’s reputation as a guy who had once been in a Chicago gang.

Jeff quickly shook his head. “Of course not. Why else do you think I moved to Pennington?”

He raised his eyebrows at the pair of them, though lingered on Coach Brown who had not stopped staring at the scars that peeked out from the top of Jeff’s shirt.

“I intend,” Jeff explained, “to graduate this year and go on to junior college—then hopefully transfer to a university.”

“Why not go directly to the university?” Coach Murphy asked. “You could get a sports scholarship.”

Chucking, Jeff shook his head. “I don’t want to do wrestling in college. If I’m going to school, I’m going to study hard and get a degree fast.”

“What do you plan on studying?” Coach Brown asked, sounding almost skeptical over whatever Jeff might choose.

Rising to head back to his cabin, Jeff answered, “I don’t know. Engineering maybe? I like working in the auto shop…but trade school is a little too slow for my tastes.”

And he walked to the door, going out. He was gone in five strides.

“Too slow?” Coach Murphy murmured. He then glanced to where the other Pennington boys were exercising. “For him?”

Brian, who had been listening in not far off, interjected—“Coach, Jeff’s brilliant. He was the top student in our Trig class last year. Everyone went to him for homework help.”

The coach stared, having a hard time imagining Jeff seriously studying. He had seemed the type that would get restless. Jeff’s eyes were always searching or staring off into space. He had taken that as ADHD, and therefore a struggling student.

“I always imagined Jeff becoming a rock star,” Jonathan said, nodding to Mark who had snuck up with Brian.

Mark grinned, agreeing. “That or the guy who works in a racecar pit. I mean, he is amazing with machines. Better than Alex. He helps Alex all the time in auto shop.”

 “Really?” Coach Murphy looked surprised.

“Yeah…” Brian murmured. Then thinking more, he said, “In fact, I don’t really think that Jeff is the kind of guy who seeks fights. I don’t really think he ever joined a gang in Chicago—but he may have been targeted by one, or dragged into one. But Jeff doesn’t seek trouble.”

“Then why—?”

The boys shook their heads, hands up in surrender.

“Believe me,” Brian said. “We’d like to know ourselves. I mean, when Zormna first came to Pennington, he avoided her like she was—-”

“The Terminator, out to get him,” Mark cut in with a knowing snicker.

Jonathan busted into laughs, nodding. The others on the team who had inched nearer also nodded in agreement, though a couple of them ruefully agreed that Zormna was a bit like the Terminator. She had a foreign accent, and she could decimate all that stood before her.

Rolling his eyes, Brian finally nodded. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“Why do you think that is?” Coach Brown asked.

The boys shared looks, then Brian said, “Because, they had an encounter at the Irish military academy where Zormna grew up. And, as Jeff tells it, she broke his nose when he was trying to sneak away—and she caught him. But she swears it was an accident. That his face hit some metal step, or something.”

“Who do you think is telling the truth?”

Shrugging, Brian ducked his head between his shoulders, “Honestly, I think Zormna is. Jeff occasionally has a way of coloring the truth….”

“Jeff lies like crazy,” Mark replied.

Jonathan sighed, shaking his head. “Not really lying. He just…”

“He lied about remembering his aunt’s birthday during the school Olympics so he could leave early,” Mark said, “When we all knew he had used that excuse three months before to get out of that weekend roadside cleanup—”

“We wasn’t lying to get out of the cleanup,” Brian snapped back defensively. “He had to make up that excuse because the coach would not let anyone skip it unless there was an important family matter going on. He told me later he had something important to do that day. The coach was just being unreasonable.”

The boys merely shrugged.

“Why did you say you imagined Jeff becoming a rock star?” Coach Brown asked Jonathan.

Jeff’s friends busted up, sharing looks. “Have you ever heard him sing?” “He plays, like, I don’t know how many instruments.” “He’s a natural and he has an electric guitar.”

“Besides,” Jonathan said, “He has that bad boy look. All the girls find him dangerous—especially in that black jacket he always wears—and they think that’s hot.”

The other wrestlers rolled their eyes, masking their jealousy. To be seen as the bad boy all the girls wanted…they so wanted that.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Bad boy…Jeff is the farthest from a bad boy. He’s a great guy. He—”

“Breaks people’s knees, rather than take a guy on a fair fight,” Damon said, cutting through them to go out the door. His bruises were lighter, but not by much.

His friends went through with him.

All three of Jeff’s buddies took steps after Damon, likely to flatten him into the wall. But Jonathan shouted, “Fair fight? An entire team against one guy?”

“You cornered him,” Brian bit out. “And he grew up in a rough neighborhood. What’d you expect?”

“You’re worse,” Mark shot back. “Jumping a guy in the bushes. Four against one!”

Damon turned to face the threesome, bristling. “You want a fight?”

“Not particularly, no,” said a voice from outside.

Damon and his friends lurched back from the speaker like it had been said by Freddie Kruger, recognizing the voice. Outside the door stood Zormna with Amy and the other girls going in for gymnastics.

Zormna said, looking to the coach, “Coach Dayes sent us to ask when you are going to done using the lodge. You are over time.”

Damon skirted away from her, eyes wide and horror-filled, going away and up the hill, which caught everyone’s notice.

“Chicken!” Mark called after him.

But Damon only looked back, rushing onward and out of the foreign blonde’s reach.

Unaffected, Zormna stepped in with Amy right next to her, waiting for a response. The other girls from cheerleading were right behind. The boys could see the rest of the gymnastics collection coming from the craft cabin also, carrying various dream catchers and crepe paper flowers.

Both Coach Brown and Coach Murphy shared looks, especially taking in the intense green-eyed stare that Zormna had fixed on them. Next to cheerful and innocent Amy who looked like a peaceful messenger from the Valley of Happiness, Zormna really did seem like the Terminator. Though, Coach Murphy would later say she was more like Drew Barrymore in the Firestarter.

“Uh, oh…of course.” Coach Murphy glanced to his watch, seeing that indeed they were ten minutes over their lodge time. He then beckoned to the boys. “Come on. It’s time we went to the—” he rolled his eyes “—craft cabin.”

Zormna snorted, apparently sharing the sentiment.

“You know,” Brian said, stepping out past her with a wink. “Jeff’s probably gone back there.”

“He’s probably building the better mousetrap with popsicle sticks,” Mark murmured, following him.

The others trailed after, chuckling.

But Zormna lifted her eyebrows, wondering if that was not true.

“He’s perfecting his ukulele,” Jonathan shot back, winking at her also.

When the entire wrestling camp cleared out, the gymnastics camp went in. The girls claimed their spots on the mats. Though, Amy found a spot near Zormna and whispered, “What really happened on that hike? I’ve heard some funny things about it. And—you know—what you did.”

But before Zormna could answer, Coach Dayes and Maya Brown came in and started them on their stretches and exercises. As they did, Holly pulled Amy away from Zormna, fiercely whispering something to her. Amy looked a little put out by whatever it was that Holly was saying, but she seemed to obey whatever wish Holly had. But then, who could blame her? It looked like Holly ruled the roost of the Harvest gymnastics team—even though she wasn’t the captain. That was a girl named Rosa who, though skilled, was intimidated by Holly’s demeanor—though especially her height.

Yet after most of the hour was over, Amy made her way back to Zormna while practicing back bends and working on her splits. She whispered once she got near enough, “Have you always been this good?”

Zormna blinked at her. Amy wasn’t being catty. She wasn’t being snide. She was actually, honestly sincere. It was the first time any girl had given Zormna an honest compliment. She was lost for words.

“I mean, you really are limber,” Amy said. “How do you do it?”

Laughing without meaning to, Zormna slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Uh, you’re serious?”

Amy nodded.

“Because you are very good too,” Zormna said.

Amy’s face turned pink. She blinked in that dumb airheaded way of hers. But now Zormna realized it was just sincere, genuine surprise. Amy wasn’t an airhead at all. She just didn’t have any ulterior motives whatsoever. And realizing that made Zormna blush, especially in shame that she had judged the girl so rudely.

She said, “To answer your earlier question: on the hike, I caught Damon Pikes and his friends beating up a guy I’ve known for a while. He and I don’t get along, but I don’t like it when people gang up on others. Because if it had been a fair fight, Jeff would have won.”

Amy stared. She peeked over her shoulder at Holly who was busy at the balance beam with Maya coaching. She said, “But I heard that you jumped into the fight and ended it. Is that true?”

Zormna closed her eyes and sighed. “True.”

Gawping now, Amy looked amazed. She peeked once more at Holly. Then she lowered her eyes and said, “I’m sorry about stealing your clothes. It wasn’t my idea. But…”

Bemused at how sweet Amy was, Zormna reached out and patted her hand. “I know. You are way too nice to do something like that.”

“But…”

Closing her eyes, Zormna shook her head. “I know. You don’t want a prank war between Holly and me.”

This time Amy stared. “Are you psychic?”

Zormna laughed.

“No, really,” Amy asked. “Because you see things that other people don’t see. Is that why the FBI are following you?”

Zormna went immediately sober, staring at her, “You believe me.”

Amy shrugged. “I believe Miss Betiford. She said she spoke with two agents. And then your friend Joy said they visited your house, and I know Joy does not lie.”

Zormna pulled back, puzzled. “You know Joy?”

Amy nodded. “We go to the same church.”

“Oh….” Leaning farther back, Zormna drew in a breath. She didn’t know much about Joy’s church except they tried to live their religion rather than just preach it. It was one of the main things she liked about them.

Dropping into introspection, Zormna went back into her stretching in silence. So did Amy. But then after a while, Amy asked, “How long have you been doing gymnastics?”

Zormna was deep in a backbend at the time and had to flip over onto her feet to answer rightly. She sat on the floor and said, “Since I was six.”

Amy nodded, sighing. “I started when I was three. Mom thought that it was a great way for kids to express themselves, and it’s really healthy. She’s way into dance. I mean waaaay. She’s an instructor at a Montessori school.”

Chuckling, Zormna somersaulted back onto her hands then executed a handstand, attempting to return into a slow backbend.

“Did your mom get you into it?” Amy asked, going into perfect splits.

Shaking her head while upside down, Zormna replied, “Nope. My mother died when I was five. And my uncle was shot when I was six. His partner took me to the military school where I started my training. That’s where I got into it.”

Amy flopped over to the side, staring. “What?”

Flipping quickly onto her feet, Zormna then sat down next to Amy to make sure she was ok. “Careful.”

But Amy still stared. “But…what do you